Ring.
No answer.
The voice mail picks up, and I hang up before I can start cussing into the phone. I don’t need to have that kind of unprofessional evidence out there. I take a few deep breaths and start up the truck. What should I do? Call? Text?
My head is starting to throb. This is the kind of shit Mags normally helps me with. When we have asshole college kids who blow off work, or when a new line chef decides to get a little sloppy with the time clock, Mags intervenes, playing good cop so I can play bad. I hardly ever have to deal with the messy personal shit because Mags is so good at it. I squint my eyes closed and curse the fact that I’ve relied on someone else for so much.
What would Mags do? Would she call and leave a scathing message, swearing and blowing off steam?
No. She’d pick up the phone and leave a professional and clear message.
So, I dial her number again. This time, it goes straight to voice mail.
She’s probably screening my call, but I’m going to handle this like the owner of a business. Like a man who can handle shit and get it done right.
I think about what I know Mags would say and then what I want to say. So what comes out of my mouth when the voice mail invites me to leave a message is somewhere in the middle.
“Mags, it’s Benito. Jas just told me you called out. You texted me this morning, so I had no reason to think my day off wouldget fucked up, but now I’m going in to cover for you. I’m not going to lie. I’m pissed. Whatever’s going on, not calling me is just plain shitty. You know it and I know it. But I’ll get over it. What I really want to tell you is that I need to know what’s really going on. If you’re mad at me or trying to punish me for something, let’s get it out in the open. I’m your boss and your backup, and I deserved better. But I’m going to handle it. I’d just like to know if this is the new normal I should expect, or if there’s some other conversation we need to have.”
Before I hang up, I see the curtains part. Ma is looking at me, and even at this distance, I can see the concern on her face. It occurs to me that maybe something is going on with Mags that I don’t know about. That she’s not ready to talk about, even to me.
“And shit, Mags,” I say, softening my tone. “We’ve worked together a long time. I’m pissed, but I’m also worried. We’re friends, right? So, whatever is going on, call me direct. Let’s sort it out.”
I hesitate, and before the silence of the dead air on the voice mail system cuts me off, I end the call.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was honest. And that’s the best I can offer. I guess I’ll see if it’s good enough.
12
WILLOW
I am tuckedbetween Benny’s legs, leaning my bare back against his naked chest. He’s got his arms around me, my breasts cupped in his hands. As we talk, he lazily squeezes and strokes my boobs.
I can feel his hard cock behind me, but I’m trying to focus on what he’s saying and not on what our bodies have spent the last few hours doing and should already be tired of but are not.
“This whole Mags thing,” he mutters. “I don’t get it. She’s always been my right hand. I don’t understand why she’s pissed all the time.” He’s quiet for a moment, and I try to focus on his words and not the heat of his palms on my sensitive flesh. “I hate this feeling,” he rumbles. I can feel the truth of his words, the vulnerability he’s exposing radiating from his chest.
Something about not looking me in the face, but talking to the top of my head, has Benny opening up. As much as my body is in delicious agony, I can’t turn off my brain. Not when he’s talking about real stuff like this.
“What feeling?” I press. “What do you hate?”
He’s quiet, and his hold on my breasts tightens. “I feel like nothing I do is good enough.”
He falls silent, and I follow his lead. I want to ask more, want him to say more, but I feel his dick soften behind me, so I know he’s lost in thought.
“I am not the easiest person to work with,” he admits. “And I haven’t always made the best decisions for the business. But I’m always straight with my people. I tell it like it is. No means no, yes means yes. I don’t play games. At least, I don’t think I do.”
He’s quiet, and I lace my hands through his so I can touch him. His arms are heavy and warm around me, and I lean my head back against his chest. We sit there quietly, our clasped hands resting together on my belly.
“What do you think Mags needs?” I ask. “Most of the time when people are angry at work, there’s a really simple explanation. They want more money, more respect. Do you think she’s feeling unappreciated?”
Benny sighs, and the soft heat of his breath ruffles my hair. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.”
I nod and give what I know of the situation some thought. “Have you asked her? I know you need to address the fact that she called out tonight without even contacting you, but what if you set that aside for a minute. Just ask her what she needs from you as a boss. As a leader in the place where she spends a lot of time and gives a ton of her energy. Have you ever done that?”
Benny is quiet, and I pull one of my hands away so I can stroke the long, tight muscles of his thigh. Beside mine, his body looks so hairy and thick. Strong where I’m slight. We look beautiful together, and it’s hard to sit here and see the lines of his perfect body without touching it.
He gives a slight groan, but I’m not sure if it’s because of my massage or my question. “I do annual evaluations and shit, if that’s what you mean. I don’t have an HR department or anything, but I give raises and reviews. Mags has to know how much she means to me.”
